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So after a hectic afternoon I decide to take the family and two friends out to dinner to unwind. It's a nice thing to do on a shitty weekday after running around like a loon. So I call a local Italian chain place, good enough for a moderately priced meal, brick oven offerings, plenty acceptable when the other choice is to cook and clean up.

I call ahead. It's the practical thing to do. Ten minutes? Sure we can do that. Hop in the car, drive over get in and... there's two tables that can fit more than four and they have families with small kids. I mean toddlerites. Well it's not fucking going to be 10 minutes anything. I call an alternative place, hell at least they're honest... 25 minutes. Sure I'll stick it out here, everyone else is game.

So we wait. It seems like the other families (well moms with their tykes) are aware of our presence and go to extra lengths to take longer. The manager comes over an apologizes. Twice. Whatever. Eventually one family gets their act in gear when presented with the bill and we get a seat. But during this wait I had ample opportunity to observe the group in the first booth.

Two women, probably in their 30's, richer than they deserve with nice hair, fake tans, coach bags and accessories. I mean the kids. The kids were accessories because they sure the fuck didn't treat them in any way I'd recognize as parents. One little girl was at the window, or in the entry vestibule with a crayon in her hand drawing on the goddamn glass and standing in everyone's way. People trying to enter or exit the restaurant had to try and get past her without hurting her or letting her out. The other toddler had a salt shaker/grinder in both hands and her mouth firmly clamped to the top. I watched in complete horror as the "mother" took the shaker with ropes of salt induced spit trailing from it, wipe it briefly and hand it back. Hand it back!??!?! This was the property of the restaurant and I promise that no customer after them wanted their salt suspended in a spit solution.

Our booth was on the other side of these whores and I kept looking daggers at these fucking bitchbags and their spawn. They're happily chatting away, picking at their long-cold plates letting everyone else in the restaurant be responsible for their offspring. No real mother would let a toddler out of their sight for more than 15 seconds much less let hover at the door with patrons entering and exiting and a busy street five paces beyond.

It became even further apparent that these self-invested bitches lacked any sort of maternal skills when the smaller of the two brats tried to climb on a chair for waiting patrons and took a tumble. They look dumbly at each other, 'OMG how did everyone ELSE let this happen to MY child?' One goes and scoops up the wailing child, suddenly the second brat kicks in as well. It's a safety mechanism humans still retain - babies will take up sympathetic wailing if they feel the group is endangered even if they aren't directly injured or threatened. Ffs the kids knew that they were the victims of shoddy nurturing. They had no sense of security even WITH their own mothers holding them. I wanted to cheer. Instead when one "mother" looks up at me for support so I sarcastically say "Way to go" and give her the glare. I think she didn't even parse it. It was pretty impressive since by then my hate was palpable.

Brats finally settled, these momdroids decide to keep the brats penned in the booth with them. The one on our side decides to hang over the top of the seat into our area. The little monster even starts playing with the hair of someone on our side. Then it spied the hot rolls on our table and started making sounds and reaching for them. Slowly, glaring at this infestation I take out a roll and begin to eat it, staring daggers. The vile progeny starts to cry again the mother-creature pulls it partly back into the booth, surprised I guess by the fact that we refused to amuse her child for her.

They did eventually leave, but I was so put off that I didn't enjoy my dinner at all. It must be a nice life to marry some guy for his money, pretty much ensure you'll be set for life by having one of his kids and then spend the rest of your life shopping, tanning and letting paid professionals or society at large nurture and raise your child. You know their children will continue the pattern, since obviously they will never know what it's like have a real mother.

Listen up bitches, if I'm ever alone, or with someone else I know who feels like I do I WILL give you my attitude and a double-fucking handful of it as well. Maybe a hostile adult cursing you out in front of your kids will wake you up, probably not, but hell it's worth a try especially if it makes me feel better.

Whores. For real.